


Royal Portraits

by MagalaBee



Series: DimiMari Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimimari, Dimimari Week (Fire Emblem), Dimimari Week 2020, F/M, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), just dimitri and his son having a talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagalaBee/pseuds/MagalaBee
Summary: Dimitri saw so much of himself in Vasily. So much of Marianne, too… the children that both of them used to be, before tragedy had struck them. He was a mindful boy. Few ten-year-olds would be thinking so deeply about a picture.DimiMari Week Day 5: Future
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Marianne von Edmund, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund
Series: DimiMari Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674229
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Royal Portraits

**Author's Note:**

> Here's day 5 of DimiMari Week!!! This one is just a quiet scene with Dimitri and his son, so while Marianne isn't present in it, it is still her boy, and still about this ship.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Please leave Kudos and Comments if you did.

It was difficult to tell where each brushstroke laid. The technique of the artist was so fine that Dimitri could hardly see the paint… to him, it looked almost like a mirror of his family. Marianne’s smooth, pale skin and the beautiful rise of pink at the very top of her nose. Her hair held in a braid, but with one graceful waterfall of blue down one shoulder. The folds of her taffeta gown, with the white lace of Inessa’s baby dress falling over the crook of her arm. 

Henrik’s fingers reaching up for Inessa’s tiny hand, his smile slightly hesitant and shy. His hair a wild mess of golden curls and wide, brown eyes. He looked like a sweet little prince in his blue and silver waistcoat, one that matched Vasily’s, standing several years taller beside him.

The portrait made Vasily look more like a young man and less like a boy. His shoulders held back and strong, one arm tucked behind his back and a small circlet on his head. His eyes were painted the same shade of blue as Dimitri’s…

There was only one thing that Dimitri didn’t care for in the painting and it was, predictably, himself. He looked tall and handsome, his hair shining and even his eyepatch made dashing and elegant… He felt like it made him look too perfect, his shoulders framed by a black and white ermine collar. It showed none of his scars. There was no evidence of his past shadows or the war or the blood he had spilled. He simply looked regal, crown on his head and an arm around his wife.

“Why don’t you have your own portrait?” Vasily asked him.

Dimitri looked down at his eldest child, who had followed him into the royal gallery to look at the family picture. It had been finished just this week, in honor of their daughter’s baptism. There had been smaller portraits painted in the past-- one for him and Marianne when they were newlyweds and she coronated, another when Vasily was born, and one with a newborn Hendrik too.

But none of just him, the King of Faerghus. In a hall filled with singular portraits of the Kingdom’s kings and queens, Dimitri had always refused the tradition.

“Well,” Dimitri sighed. “I don’t think it ever suited me.”

Vasily’s brows scrunched up together in confusion. He pouted lightly. “But you’re the king, and all the other kings have their own paintings. Don’t you  _ have to _ have one made?”

“Royal portraits are… delicate things,” Dimitri explained. He turned his attention to the portrait of his own father, Lambert. Dimitri remembered watching his father pose for this portrait when he was very small. Lambert had been dressed in the finest brocades, with a long, dramatic fur cloak falling in swaths down his back and the holy lance in one hand. He looked so austere, so serene, so powerful. Exactly what one imagined when they thought of royalty…

But it was his grandmother’s portrait, just beside Lambert’s, which was an even better example.

Dimitri led Vasily further down the gallery hall. “Here,” he pointed to his grandmother’s painting. “This is your Great Grandmother Tatianna. When she was coronated, Faerghus hadn’t had a queen in many generations and she had some nobles questioning her ability to lead.”

Vasily listened, his lips pursing together slightly, making a thin, contemplative line. He was still just a child, but such a studious boy. “So she needed to look strong?” he asked.

“Exactly,” Dimitri nodded. “And so… she had her portrait taken like this. With a breast plate over her gown.” His grandmother looked even more stern than Lambert did, her face set in a determined scowl.

“Right, so she looks like a knight,” Vasily agreed.

“Exactly, and since she fought on the front lines when Sreng attacked the northern border, this portrait also served as a reminder of her greatest victories. Many kings and queens throughout our history have had such particular imagery woven into their portraits. Visible coin purses note great prosperity during their reign, and sheaves of wheat in their arms might indicate strong harvests… Whatever a ruler of Faerghus was most proud of, it was often painted in their portrait.”

Vasily nodded, looking from painting to painting in the gallery, trying to pick out those special traits in each monarch of their family line.

As he began to wander down the hall, eyes roaming up and down, he asked again, “So why don’t you have one painted too? From the way Uncle Dedue, Auntie Inga, and Uncle Sylvy talk about you and war… there’s a lot you could put in a portrait.”

Dimitri’s shoulders tensed. “...Yes. You’re right. But portraits aren’t just about the past, Vasily. They’re about the future. Someday… you might be commissioning your own royal portrait, as king, and you’ll have to consider not just what you’ve accomplished. But what you want to be remembered for.”

Vasily looked over his shoulder, meeting his father’s gaze. Dimitri saw so much of himself in Vasily. So much of Marianne, too… the children that both of them used to be, before tragedy had struck them.

He was a mindful boy. Few ten-year-olds would be thinking so deeply about a picture.

Dimitri smiled.

“I don’t want to be remembered for the war, Vasily… Your mother and I have told you some about it, and… its not something I consider a point of pride.”

Vasily glanced down at his shoes-- a habit from Marianne.

“However,” Dimitri continued, striding the few yards to come to Vasily’s side and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I am incredibly proud of you. Your brother… your sister… My family is what I want to be remembered for.”

Vasily lifted his head again, smiling bashfully. “Papa…”

Dimitri kissed his forehead. As tall as Vasily was growing, and as fast as he might be maturing, he would always be his son. “I’ll always be proud of you, Vasya.”


End file.
